Terribly sorry for not updating soon enough. I've been very busy with schoolwork and haven't had time to write this. But here is Chapter Four. As of now, I'm not sure how fun it's going to be—you'll have to find out with me! I don't plan my stories, so you're in for a ride.

Daytime was a relief for Piggy and the rest of the islanders. As the sun rose, spirits were lifted and the weight of darkness faded. The only things to hinder the good feelings were the sharp smell of the pig's head and the guts that lay near it. Simon's body was gone; Ralph must have reclaimed it over the night.

Littluns stretched and yawned. Many of them had burrowed into the soft grass of the meadow, some with their thumbs stuck in their mouths. Piggy almost laughed at the ridiculous sight, but decided not to—the sound might possibly wake sleeping children, however few there were. It was best to sleep as much as you could, because any escape from reality was a good one.

Jack and Roger were nowhere to be found. Piggy wondered vaguely where they could be. But he didn't have to wonder for very long. Leaves rustled, and the two of them climbed out of some sort of hiding spot in the forest. Piggy looked at each of them expectantly.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

"We saw something," said Jack. "Something back there."

"It moved," Roger added.

"What was it?"

"We don't know." Jack rubbed the dull edge of his knife. "We thought it was a littlun, but—" he shook his head "—it was nonsense."

"How's Ralph?"

"Haven't seen him yet today," Roger answered shortly. He walked past Jack and Piggy and entered the forest on the other side of the clearing. The remaining two looked at each other, their sentiments obvious: neither of them wanted to be the first to come across Ralph that day. Simon's body and Ralph's mind were both falling into states of disrepair, and it was disturbing to say the least. But somehow, Piggy still felt responsible for the fair-haired boy. He hadn't been dangerous (at least not when Piggy talked to him yesterday), and he seemed genuinely concerned about everyone's well-being.

"I still think we ought to kill him," said Jack. "What's he doing but scaring all the littluns? Why, if I were chief, I wouldn't go so batty. I don't speak to dead boys."

"Ralph don't think he's been talking to a dead boy," said Piggy flatly. "He thinks Simon's alive. I never seen nothing like it."

"We must get rid of him!" Jack insisted. "Those types of things shouldn't happen."

"Well, I won't be responsible for two people dying," Piggy argued. "And me not keeping you from killing him makes me just as guilty. What if he ends up becoming normal again?"

"You must just as barmy as Ralph if you think he'll stop!" Jack cried. "Me and the others are going to come up with a plan to kill him. Even if you tried talking sense into him, he wouldn't listen."

Piggy knew, somehow, that Jack was right. Still, he hated the idea of actually killing Ralph. Ralph was Piggy's only friend on this island, except for Simon—and Simon was dead. Even though Ralph sometimes made fun of him, he knew that the blond boy meant well. No one could be perfect. Still, it was unreasonable to believe that Ralph would get over it; if anything, he'd get worse. But ever since Ralph lost his mind, reason hadn't been especially helpful.

He watched Jack walk back into the clearing and stand in front of the group of castaways. Only a few were still asleep. Jack started to tell them about his plan, and they responded with nods of approval. Piggy, with a feeling of hopelessness, found his way back into the crowd and blended in as best he could.

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Ralph sat with his legs hanging off the platform, Simon at his side. The two boys stared at the ocean for a long time without saying a word. Finally, Simon spoke.

"Thanks for bringing me back," he said. "I don't know what they were doing."

"Well, you're back here now," Ralph said. He jumped off the platform and faced the younger boy. Ever since the incident on the beach, Simon had been a bit...different. His eyes no longer held the same wisdom and curiosity, and he seemed more tired. But Ralph wasn't about to be choosy. Simon—and perhaps Piggy—were the only two members of his tribe left. The rest had followed Jack, and it made him sad to think about it.

How were they going to be rescued if they didn't keep the fire going? Ralph missed his home. He missed his mother, his father, and even his school. He missed his books and feeding sugar cubes to the wild ponies over his garden wall. He missed the snow that would fall gently on the streets in London, a white blanket announcing the return of winter. He missed the way he and his friends would play and laugh together. Now all he had was Simon.

Simon was now looking at Ralph sadly, with a gaze reminiscent of an old man. "I miss them," he said.

"Them?" Ralph asked. "You mean—"

"I mean Piggy and Maurice and Robert and Bill and Henry. Even Jack and Roger. It's lonely."

Ralph found he had to agree. "I know," he said, "but we still have each other."

"That's not the same. You're supposed to be chief. How could you think Jack would get us rescued? All he wants to do is hunt and kill pigs."

"But they won't listen to me!" Ralph ran a hand through his hair. "Not even if I blow the conch. Only Piggy comes."

"You have to try," said Simon. He crossed his feet and swung his legs.

"What were they like yesterday? When they took you and Piggy?"

Simon searched his mind for the right words. "They were...nice. They wanted me to join their tribe. They said that I could be a hunter."

"But you don't like to hunt, do you, Simon?" Ralph asked. He hoped he didn't sound too desperate.

"No, I don't like to hunt. But if there really is a beast..."

Ralph's mind reeled. He was almost sure that no beast existed. Still, he couldn't process the horrifying thing he'd seen on the mountain. They hadn't attacked the beast during the dance—that much was obvious. So it must still be out there. But what if it really didn't exist? What could the thing on the mountain be?

"You didn't see the thing on the mountain," Ralph said. "It was scary. I don't know for sure if it was a beast."

"I...I think the beast might be us," said Simon. "I didn't see the thing on the mountain, but it hasn't attacked us so far. I know what did attack, though..."

Ralph shuddered. "But I was on the outside of the circle," he protested weakly. Simon just looked at him, a blank expression on his face.

"Maybe it's Jack's tribe that's the beast," said Simon. "You never wanted to kill any pigs or anything."

"You're right," Ralph replied. "All we wanted to do was get rescued. Jack and Roger decided to start hunting. What I need to do is get more people in my tribe. Then we can start the fire again and a ship will see us."

"How are you going to get more people in your tribe?" asked Simon.

"I'll have to make them like you, somehow," said Ralph. "You're the only one who doesn't stay away from me. How are you different from the others?"

Simon shrugged. "I got hurt," he said. "And then you saved me. Maybe you have to save them, too."

"You're right, again. But they have to be hurt in order for me to save them."

"I guess they'll have to get hurt, then," said Simon.

"We can't wait that long! We'll start to get grey hair before all of them get hurt. By then everyone in the Home Countries will have forgotten about us."

"You'll have to make them get hurt. After that, they'll join your tribe."

"Okay...but how?"

"In the clearing in the forest, there's a pig's head from one of their hunts. They put it on the end of a spear. Use that. The spear, I mean."

"All right," said Ralph. He started into the forest. When he reached the clearing, he found that Simon had indeed been telling the truth. On the far side, a rotted pig's head was spiked on the end of a spear; dried blood seemed to be holding the thing together. But he couldn't grab it now. Jack's tribe was holding an assembly.

"We're going to kill Ralph," the redhead was saying. "He's batty and he isn't doing us any good. We're going to have to hunt him, just like we do with our pigs, and once he's gone I'll be chief."

Ralph could hardly believe what he was hearing. Simon had to know immediately. He turned and ran back through the forest.

"Simon! Simon!" he cried. "Jack wants to kill me! They're going to hunt me just like a pig!" His chest heaved with sobs.

Simon hadn't moved from his spot on the platform. "You'll have to get them in your tribe before the hunt starts," he said.

"How?" Ralph asked, desperate.

"Take the spear when they're sleeping tonight," Simon replied. Ralph nodded. That was all that needed to be spoken out loud. They had a plan.

Okay. Chapter Four. I hope you like it; it's the next step in the wearing away of everyone's sanity. R&R, if you think it's necessary.